


Strictly Confidential

by ettaberry_tea



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Addiction, Cardassian Anatomy, Depression, Doctor Bashir being an actual doctor, Medical Examination, Middle aged lizard, Post-Episode: s02e22 The Wire, not kinky although Garak wishes it was, pelvic examination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22611970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ettaberry_tea/pseuds/ettaberry_tea
Summary: Doctor Bashir gives Garak a full physical. Garak is somewhat uncooperative and constantly hits on his friend who, for once, doesn't end up sleeping with his patient (although Garak wishes he would).Literally Bashir just being a doctor.
Relationships: one sided Elim Garak/ Julian Bashir
Comments: 11
Kudos: 60





	Strictly Confidential

After the incident with Garak’s wire, Doctor Bashir had gotten Garak to reluctantly agree to a full physical. “It wouldn’t do to have you running off to consult your new friend, Enabran Tain, every time you need to know anything about Cardassian physiology,” reasoned Garak.

One of Garak’s conditions to consenting to a physical was that it be conducted in his quarters where he felt less on display. “You’re not going to write any papers about my body for Star Fleet Medical, correct? That would be most humiliating, even if you made it ‘anonymous.’ It wouldn’t really be anonymous considering that I’m one of the few Cardassians Star Fleet has access to.”

“I promise that this will stay strictly confidential,” Doctor Bashir assured Garak. “If Star Fleet Medical want’s any of your information, they’ll have to ask for your permission first.”

Garak nodded and sat down on the edge of his bed. He clasped his hands nervously. “You may proceed then,” he said.  
His stony facial expression seemed to suggest that he was expecting some form of torture.

“Great!” said Bashir. He pulled Garak’s desk chair over and sat down. He took out his medical tricorder. “I’ll start by scanning your head. Have you had any headaches since you left the infirmary?”

“Yes, although they are nowhere near as bad as when my device was activated.”

Doctor Bashir asked some more questions about the frequency and duration of Garak’s headaches. “Have you had any other side-affects or symptoms? Nausea, dizziness?”

“No, just the headaches. I’m feeling much better, thanks to you doctor.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Bashir switched to scanning the other side of Garak’s head. “Are you still taking triptoceterine?”

Garak didn’t answer that question. Doctor Bashir sighed.  
“I’m not going to be mad or judge you if you are. Frankly, I’d be surprised if you had managed to stop on your own.”

“It takes the edge off better than a glass of kanar does.”

“How much and how often?”

“Oh, usually about 50ccs, twice a day on average.”

Doctor Bashir tried not to react the way he did when he first saw Garak inject enough to tranquilize a mammoth straight into his neck. It was hard not to feel angry seeing Garak put his health at risk in such a manner. He had to remind himself to put his personal feelings aside and treat Garak as he would his other patients. “It seems that your body had built up quite a bit of tolerance,” he said. “How would you feel about gradually reducing the amount that you are taking each day?”

Garak tilted his head in a noncommittal manner. 

“Just consider it. It’s hard on your liver and kidneys to be processing that much triptoceterine. It could also cause brain damage in the long term. Even if you aren’t ready to stop completely, reducing the amount that you are taking is better than not doing anything.”

“I’ll consider it I suppose,” said Garak not to enthusiastically.

Doctor Bashir talked to Garak about keeping the hypospray sterile and about Garak’s alcohol consumption. He offered to find Garak an addictions counselor, but his Cardassian patient insisted that he was not interested.

“Well then how about I ask you some questions about your medical history?” said Doctor Bashir. “Do you have any other implants besides the one in your head?”

Garak chuckled. “None to my knowledge.”

“Have you had any major surgeries, illnesses, or injuries?”

“Oh, I’ve been injured many times in my work as an operative. I’ve lost track. Most of the bones in my body have been broken. My left lung was punctured seven years ago when I upset a rather drunk group of Romulans. I can’t remember how many times I’ve been knocked unconscious, although that could just be a symptom of having been knocked unconscious so many times I suppose.”

“In medicine that’s called repetitive head trauma,” said Bashir. He continued his scan of Garak, focusing on Garak’s chest and abdomen. “That puts you at risk of developing chronic traumatic encephalopathy, and, in most humanoids, it increases the risk of developing dementia.”

“My, what a bright future you have described for my brain so far,” said Garak sarcastically. 

Doctor Bashir put down his medical tricorder. “Considering that your brain has certainly been through a lot, especially in this past week, I think we’d better do a neurological screening.”

“Just what does that entail exactly?” said Garak suspiciously.

“Well, you get to play some games on my PADD, to start, in order to test your memory and cognition.”

Garak poked away at Bashir’s PADD. He had to remember words and solve simple puzzles. “Your games are easy,” He said, handing the PADD back.

“Good!” said Doctor Bashir. “We’d have a problem if they weren’t.”

“What next?”

“Well, now I’ll ask you to do a bunch of silly things in order to check that your brain is functioning normally.”

“Can’t your tricorder tell you that sort of thing?”

“My tricorder says that there’s a large, somewhat scarred mass of neurons and fat contained within your cranium that is exhibiting electrical activity.”

“You don’t say.”

Doctor Bashir had Garak hold his arms out in front of him, palms up, for a few seconds. “Good, now touch your nose and then my finger,” said Doctor Bashir, holding out his finger an arms-length away from Garak. They repeated that multiple times with Bashir moving his finger around. “Excellent, now smile, I’m looking for any asymmetry in your face.”  
The murderous grin that Garak put on gave Doctor Bashir a chill. No problems there.  
“Stick out your tongue. Good, now push your cheek out with your tongue. Other side too. Perfect.”

Doctor Bashir then had Garak walk to the other side of the room and back, and then stand with his eyes closed and feet together.

“Well Doctor? What’s your prognosis? Should I get my affairs in order?”

“You did fine. You didn’t show any signs of brain damage. Just try not to anger any more Romulans, or Klingons, or Major Kira, all right?”

Garak nodded. “That is sage advice.”

“I’d like to examine your eyes now if that’s all right.” Doctor Bashir had Garak cover one eye at a time. He checked Garak’s peripheral vision and ability to track his finger. He shined a light in each of Garak’s eyes to see Garak’s pupils’ contract.  
“Would you prefer an eye chart with Cardassi script or Federation Standard letters?” he asked.

Garak brightened up. “You have my alphabet? I would not have expected that. I don’t believe I’ve ever asked you if you speak any Cardassi.”

“The only sentences I know are _I am a doctor by profession. Please allow me to assist you. Where is your pain located?_ I can say that in at least fifty languages.”

“Your pronunciation was good,” said Garak appreciatively. “I’ll teach you more if you like.”  
He read off the different sized letters on Bashir’s PADD. He struggled with the smallest font, but Bashir assured him that that was fine. He was able to read the different coloured letters perfectly.

“I’m curious, how much of the light spectrum can you see?”

“It’s been my observation that Terrans and Bajorans don’t seem to be able to see anything below red light. Ghenorev, as a colour, doesn’t appear to translate to your language.”

“You can see some of the infrared band?”

“I can see ghenorev. You, for example, are emitting a very appealing glow.”

“Why thank you Garak,” said Bashir, failing to pick up on the Cardassian’s flirtatious tone of voice.

Doctor Bashir asked Garak questions about other senses and checked the Cardassian’s hearing with another ‘game’ on his PADD. Garak’s hearing was mediocre, but not bad enough to warrant any intervention.

“You missed one of my senses,” said Garak.

Doctor Bashir frowned. “Do you have a sense that I don’t know about?”

Garak smiled mysteriously.

“Oh, come on Garak.”

“I can sense my neighbor pacing in her quarters.”

Doctor Bashir could as well, thanks to his augmented hearing. “How? I doubt you can hear her. Can you feel the vibrations of her footsteps or something?”

“No but that’s a good guess. Ask me a different question and maybe I’ll let you figure it out.”

The doctor looked at the ceiling and scrunched up his face in thought. “I know. How would a Cardassian Doctor test this sense of yours?”

“Close your eyes.”

Doctor Bashir looked suspiciously at Garak.

“You are wise not to be so naively trusting, but, as you would say, just humor me here.”

Doctor Bashir closed his eyes. “Now touch my hand.”

“How?”

“Just try.”

Doctor Bashir reached his hand out and felt nothing but air. Garak laughed at the flailing human. “Try it with me now.”

Garak high-fived Doctor Bashir’s hand with disturbing accuracy multiple times. “You have got to be peeking,” said Bashir in amazement.

“I assure you; you could blindfold me, and it wouldn’t matter. Now, tell me doctor, how do you think I’m able to sense your hand?”

“Can you sense the thermal radiation coming off my hand at that distance?”

“No, but that’s another good guess.”

Doctor Bashir looked at the ceiling and pursed his lips. “What about electromagnetic fields? Can you sense the bioelectrical field that my nerves and muscles are creating?”

“Very good Doctor!”

“But how? Where does your body sense that?”

“Come on Doctor, where do you think?”

Doctor Bashir studied Garak carefully. “Your um…ah…” He pointed to his own forehead awkwardly.

Garak smirked. “What, my spoon? There’s no need to act embarrassed; you’re not being offensive just by pointing out my facial features.”

“Well?”

“Yes, you are correct, and the word you are looking for is krilatbre-yezul if you’re being formal. Chufa is another word for my forehead indentation and is perhaps easier to pronounce. I would feel most disoriented if I lost my sense of bioelectric fields. It would be as terrible for me as losing your sense of hearing would be for you.”

Doctor Bashir used his medical tricorder to examine Garak’s krilatbre-yezul closely. “I suppose the concave shape helps you to determine what direction the bioelectric field is located in.”

“Precisely.”

“Well, thank you for teaching me something new. I suppose that covers that topic then. Let me think of another question to ask you.”

“I suppose you haven’t asked me about my sex life yet,” said Garak. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“Well then, are you sexually active?”

“Why of course my dear doctor, at least I’ve certainly been trying to be!” Garak looked pointedly at Bashir who missed the hidden frustration.

“How many sexual partners have you had in the past year?”

Garak chuckled. “Enough to put Commander Dax to shame.”

“Can you tell me what species you’ve been in contact with?”

“In the past year I’ve been in bed with a Betazoid, Trill, two Bolians, a Denobulan, Klingons, an Andorian, one of the Ferengi waiters, a Rigellian, Tarkaleans, Risans, a Haliian, oh and a few humans as well. I’m not particular about species, gender or position doctor.”

Doctor Bashir tried to hide his surprise. He hadn’t realized Garak got around so much. “Well…” he blustered and then cleared his thoat. “What sort of protection have you been using?”

“Oh, with Klingons it’s always wise to have a phaser to stun them with if things get out of hand.”

Bashir tried not to smile. “I’m talking about contraception and barriers to stop the spread of infection.”

“Oh… well, I haven’t been able to access anything… compatible with my physiology since the station came under Federation control.”

“So, you’ve been having unprotected sex with multiple partners.”  
Doctor Bashir rubbed his temple and mentally groaned.

“It’s not like I’ve gotten anyone pregnant!” Garak said defensively.

“Well that’s good to hear, but you’re putting yourself and others at risk of spreading diseases. I would highly recommend, _at the very least,_ using a condom.”

Garak started laughing. “My dear doctor!”

“What now?”

“If you had ever bothered to pay the lower half of me any attention, you would understand why I’m laughing.”

Doctor Bashir sighed and tossed Garak a purple gown from his medical bag. Garak looked at the gown with his wide eyes and then wordlessly went into the refresher to change.

When he came out again, the doctor said, “Right then, I want to do a pelvic exam, and I want a blood sample and a urine sample.”

Garak looked up at the ceiling in an exasperated manner. “You really know nothing about Cardassian physiology.”

“Let me guess, you don’t produce urine?”

“That is correct.”

Doctor Bashir collected a vile of Garak’s brown blood from his Cardassian patient’s arm. Then he had Garak lie back on the bed and he scanned Garak’s pelvic area with his medical tricorder.

“May I lift your gown?”

“Of course, doctor!”

Doctor Bashir exposed Garak’s lower half. There wasn’t much there, just a scaled and slightly elevated slit that was just below where a human’s bellybutton would be. “Ah, you have a cloaca! Now those cardassian toilets that were all over the station make sense.”

Garak propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s been increasingly frustrating to find places to relieve myself. Starfleet has gone and replaced all of the Cardassian disposal units with your infernal shit-chairs that are impossible for me to use in any dignified manner, and your… urinals you call them? I’m afraid they can’t handle anything a Cardassian body produces. That was a most embarrassing incident.”

Bashir laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve had a few awkward run-ins with Cardassian disposal units that got rather messy.”  
He put on a pair of gloves. “Right then. May I examine you?”

“My dear doctor, whenever you are ready.”

Doctor Bashir gently opened Garak’s genital slit with one hand and used the other to scan Garak’s interior more extensively. “Let me know if I cause you any pain.”

“Doctor, you are being way gentler than any of my lovers have been.”

Doctor Bashir took a cotton swab and swiped the inside of Garak’s opening to collect some of the clear mucus that lubricated Garak. He put the swab in a vile to be tested later. “If you’re comfortable and able to do so, could you please evert for me?”

“For you, anything doctor. Just a moment. It’s tricky to evert when I’m not in a state of arousal, but I can manage.”

Garak inserted two of his fingers into himself and made the face someone makes when they are rummaging around the bottom of a bag. Doctor Bashir looked away.

“There, I’ve got it.”

Doctor Bashir scanned Garak’s smooth, wet, greyish-pink phallus with the medical tricorder. It was about four inches long and made of connective tissue. It rested against Garak’s tummy. It was large at the base and tapered off considerably.

“I hope you can see why the condoms that work for other species would not stay on my prUt.”

“Yes, it would probably fall right off. I see your point.”

Garak relaxed and his phallus slid back into its compartment. He pulled his gown back down and sat up. “The Cardassian equivalent of a condom has a flared base that has an adhesive to hold it to the body. The pattern for them was deleted from the replicator when the station changed hands, along with many other things.”

“I will try to find a pattern for one.”

“You will not ask Enabran Tain.”

“I will not ask Enabran Tain.”

Doctor Bashir asked Garak some questions relating to his age and aging for Cardassians in general. “You seem embarrassed to ask me about my age,” observed Garak. “Do humans find it shameful to be old?”

“We shouldn’t, but some find it offensive to be asked about their age. I suppose I’m projecting that on to you.”

“I have fifty-three years of experience and talent. Some would consider that quite appealing.”

“I’m glad that you feel that way.”

“My joints do get a bit stiff in the morning, as did my father’s when he was my age. It used to just be my knees and back, but my hands have been getting sore lately too. The temperature on this station doesn’t help matters.”

Bashir scanned Garak’s hands. “I’ll give you some anti-inflammatory medicine to try. It might take a bit of experimenting to figure out what helps.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

“What else do you know about your relatives’ medical history?”

“I’m afraid my relatives have never been all that forthcoming about their physical infirmities.”

“Ah, so evasiveness runs in the family then.”

“Indeed.”

“I have your genome on file, but it’s hard to search for any genetic condition if I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“I don’t know of any genetic disorders in my lineage, and a Cardassian doctor would have informed me if they had found anything concerning within my genome.”

“Good. Well then, I am a bit concerned about your blood pressure. I know that you’ve been under a lot of stress recently, which could definitely be a contributing factor. I hope you will let me monitor it and, if it stays elevated, we can look into finding some medication to lower it.”

Garak sighed heavily. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“About that. Have you been taking the antidepressants I prescribed you?”

“Yes, religiously I assure you. They don’t change my situation though, so I don’t see how altering my serotonin levels is going to help me.”

“You’re right, I can’t change your situation. The only thing I can do for you is try to give you what you need to cope, and a small part of that is increasing your serotonin levels. As you know, I also recommend counselling.”

“I know, spare me the speech again. I don’t want to talk about my feelings to a Federation or Bajoran counselor.”

“Would you talk to a Cardassian counselor?”

“What is your point in asking that when you know you can’t offer me one?”

“It’s relevant to figuring out why you don’t want to talk to a counselor.”

“There are things that I wouldn’t have to explain to a Cardassian that others would be unable to understand. Take _The Never Ending Sacrifice_ for example. If you can’t understand it, then you can’t really understand my perspective, my culture- and if you can’t understand me then no Federation counselor can.”

“I’m sorry Garak. I’d like to understand you. Please don’t give up on me yet.”

Garak let out an exasperated sigh and didn’t volunteer anything more. Doctor Bashir packed up his bag, thanked Garak, and left.

>>\----------o----------<<

Garak lay back down on his bed, one hand in his hair and one on his stomach. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. He thought of Bashir’s fingers touching him. There wasn’t much to work with; Bashir had been very professional. Did the doctor really not see how interested Garak was in him? Was he choosing to ignore it?

_Is he not interested in men? Does he find me too old? Is he not interested in Cardassians?_

Garak touched his neck and jawline in an erotic manner and closed his eyes, picturing Bashir’s face.

_I suppose it doesn’t help that I told him I murdered all those civilians on that transport ship._

At least the sexual frustration was a distraction from being exiled. Garak pictured Bashir’s kind, intelligent eyes as his hand slid further and further down his body.

**Author's Note:**

> credit to Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xnenobiology by tinsnip https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479


End file.
